The Tales of Reinar
by Lokapala
Summary: How a man's life was transformed into a Legend:  Reinar Hawke's journey told through the stories that spread around Thedas, the paper trail that Cassandra unearthed, Varric's interrogation transcripts - and fragments of what actually happened.


**The Tale of the First Blood**

How did the Champion come to Kirkwall, you ask? Not hard to say. Cold winds of the Blight brought him to us, death and betrayal swallowing his homeland. On a dark Wintermarch eve, an unnamed ship docked in the Gallows, one of the many that brought the desperate to our city. But that day turned the tide of the hungry and the hateful trying to flood our Kirkwall, for the Maker finally sent a Champion to stand for us when others in power could not or would not. His cloak bright red, his doubled blades eternally sharp, his stride wide and true, templars hastened to open the gates to the city before him. He killed seventy men that night, blighted Fereldans unreasoning, who snarled and howled in the courtyard, barely held back by the guards. His first act in Kirkwall was to defend it from unlawful pretenders and diseased beggars, and that is why he was Champion, and that is why they say Justice followed his steps.

_- The Champion's Tale, as written down after the words of an anonymous minstrel in a Starkhaven tavern_

* * *

><p>Unrest among the refugees continues, resulting in an unprovoked assault on the Guard, which ended with two Fereldans dead and seven detained and no injuries among the guard. Five of the arrested are injured: two with an arrow wound in the right shoulder, one with an arrow wound in the left thigh, one with a cracked jaw, and one with several broken ribs and his left arm dislocated.<p>

_(enclosed are request forms addressed to the Lowtown Seagate Quarter sexton for two graves and to the Chantry office for a healer, the second one noted as undelivered)_

Guardsmen Amsel, Vissar and Darren for carelessness and inattention are assigned 8 days on the wall by Guard-Lieutenant on duty, Dougal Ewald.

Also of note is well-timed and unexpected help from two of the refugees present at the altercation, Aveline Vallen and Reinar Hawke, both able fighters and responsible for one of the dead bodies and most of the injuries on the detained. Guard-Lieutenant Ewald recommends them as potential guardsmen recruits.

_(potential enlistment denied by Captain Jeven with notation "we don't need no blighted refuse in the guard")_

_- From the Kirkwall_ _City_ _Guard Archives, a report from the Gallows main post dated 15 Drakonis 9:31_

* * *

><p>You do realise that I didn't know the Champion his whole life, right? Not even his whole life in Kirkwall, really. But I have heard the story of their arrival several times, first from his sister, then from Aveline and from himself, yes.<p>

Try to understand, Seeker - it was all a coincidence. I don't think that Gamlen, his old weasel of an uncle, would've come to meet them at all, had he not seen an opportunity to settle at least one of his many, many debts. So poor Leandra – that's the Champion's mother… Ah, you knew this, I shoulda guessed.

See, poor Leandra wrote her brother many times, and he knew about Bethany. When Gamlen went to the Gallows, he brought Niklas Meeran with him - that was the Red Iron company leader at the time - because he promised him a desperate apostate if the Red Irons forgave his debt, whatever that was. Then the weasel told Hawke that working for the Irons was their only way into the city, since no one else could grease all the palms they'd need to grease. That, unfortunately, was close enough to truth. So that's how they got into the city and how Reinar and Bethany ended in a mercenary company for a couple of years.

_- From the interrogation of Varric Tethras as written down in 28 Cloudreach 9:43_ _by Allen Renaldi, Tranquil in the service of the Seekers of Truth_

* * *

><p>The Gallows docks were an inhospitable place, spring sea winds whipping you in the face and chasing you around the many, many corners of the maze that was the refugee camp which sprawled over most of the available space. Meeting Meeran was as pleasant as Reinar could have predicted, using Gamlen as a source of inspiration, but it truly seemed they had no choice but to accept this offer. They had already been camping here for a week, right under the templars' noses, and he could practically feel their luck running out.<p>

Yesterday a shining, clanking patrol had ransacked several tents and slapped around some gents in the row next to theirs, because somebody told them they heard from a friend that one of the South Reach refugees said to his neighbour that his socks were magically warm... or something along those lines, he guessed. And so with the sudden appearance of 'uncle' Gamlen and his unpleasant but well-supplied acquaintances, Reinar, Bethany and Aveline came to stand in this nook between putrid-smelling crates, eyeing up a brightly clad noble pacing along the shore in the company of his very tall, very broad and quite well armed guards.

Among the many things that were wrong with this situation, most glaring was Bethany's presence.

"I would appreciate it if you cheered us on from somewhere else. Say, from our tent that is conveniently placed on the other side of the docks!"

"You don't have to do this, brother, we could find something else..."

"Our stunning beauty, as well as Aveline's skill at cracking bones, failed to impress the city guard. So unless you think I should try to woo the local knight-commander with my charm and mother's cakes, I really do have to do this, Beth! You'd better go."

"You shouldn't have to kill for this!"

"Your brother is right, Bethany, leave..."

"Wait, wait, I know! This Friedrich, he's a noble, so he must have money! We can tell him of Meeran's grudge, and ask for help in return, and..."

And she was already sprinting across the walkway towards the menacing and most likely unsociable men. Scrabbling in the dirt for the arrows he dropped during their little debate, Reinar brought up his bow and hissed to Aveline, "Go, go stop her, get her out of there!"

The whole thing was done within seconds. Aveline run surprisingly fast for someone with a full metal shield in one hand and a longsword in another and caught up to Bethany when she was near the first bodyguard. He immediately got a shield to the face and went down to find a rock in the surf with his head, while his colleague failed to parry Aveline's second thrust and fell to his knees coughing up blood. Before Aveline dragged her sword out, Friedrich was staggering back with an arrow between his ribs. The two guards left standing looked at Aveline, at their employer, at the crates where no archer was visible, and sheathed their swords.

"You must be with the Irons. Unless old Niklas wanted us here dead, we'll leave you to your business then, yes?" Aveline nodded, straightening from her guard and lowering the sword.

The hirelings gone, Reinar crouched over Friedrich, a hand on the arrow's shaft, stilling and looking his kill in the eyes. The man was not yet dead, his throat croaking with futile attempts to draw enough air, blood on his whitened lips and his gaudy doublet.

"You should finish him, Hawke. It's a mercy." Aveline slowly cleaned her blade on the second mercenary's tunic, before shoving his body into the tide next to his associate's. They were both already dead.

"Yes." He didn't move. Bethany, who managed to get back to the crates during the fight, came back and hesitantly touched his shoulder.

"Are you..." Reinar startled at her touch, and gave himself a shuddering shake, like a mabari fresh out of freezing water.

"Yes, I should." He drew out the dirk Friedrich had on his belt, only to stop to look at the man's face. He was gone. With a sigh, Reinar closed the corpse's eyelids and stood up, wrenching the arrow out.

"Well, at least I kill tidier than you, Aveline."

"Brother!"

The third body splashed, landing next to its unfortunate guards. "What, Beth? Let's go and tell Meeran the source of his annoyance is dead and buried. Do you think a watery grave counts?" He turned and started walking back to the courtyard at a quick if unnaturally even pace.

"Hawke!" – "Get going, we have a corpse to report!"

Aveline turned to Bethany. "I thought he killed before... What he did to...for Wesley. What's wrong with your brother?"

Bethany scowled. "Well he didn't. Wesley was dying already! We helped our father before, when his patients were hopeless. This is different." And she ran to catch up with her brother.

"Right."

* * *

><p>In the year 9:30 of the Dragon, month of Solace, answering His Royal Majesty King Cailan Theirin's call for able-bodied men to fight the darkspawn threat to our kingdom, under the hand of Arl Leonas Bryland from the South Reach Arling came:<p>

from the township of Lothering - 49 men, 27 of this number carrying a bow and arrows, 12 carrying a spear and 10 carrying assorted blades;

from the township of Riverwater - 33 men, 14 of this number carrying a bow and arrows, 6 carrying a spear and 13 carrying assorted blades;

_[...]_

In all count, 573 men, equipped and ready.

From this number, in accordance with General Mac Tir's orders, are formed:

3 companies of archers, under captains Mac Neal, Harding and Varel;

2 companies of spearmen, under captains Deklan and Lea;

1 company of swordsmen under captain Gerreth, divided under lieutenants Harrod and Seland into sword and shield and greatsword troops, accordingly.

_(full roster with family names, ages and towns of origins follows)_

_- From the Ostagar Army registers_

* * *

><p>The quiet of a Hightown night is always distracting for someone accustomed to Lowtown, which alternates between deafening silence signalling danger, and the whispers and hissing and squealing and catcalls and screams and bawdy songs that normally fill the air. Here it is quiet enough to hear birds singing and maybe that is what's disconcerting - Reinar certainly hadn't seen any in Lowtown except for the pair of storks that stubbornly keep a nest in the upper branches of the Alienage's vhenadahl.<p>

They - that is, Sally the Meerkat, Grumpy Norman, his sister Bethany, whom he will never deign to call Chillychit, and Reinar, well, Hawke himself - are crouching and lying on the moss-covered roofs of the Behrtold Estate. It is a position not as uncomfortable as one might think, but exceedingly boring and getting more so with the passage of time, especially if you've been here since sundown. Nigh-invisible in their green-black jerkins against the night sky and old roofing, they are waiting for Joram Behrtold to take his haughty noble arse out for his usual 'eventide breath of fresh air'. Unsettlingly, today he is off-schedule, which might put this operation under risk, if one was to judge by Norman's still silent fidgeting. It's suspicious, yes, but Reinar chose the day personally, so no one except the four of them should know they are here. Thus his dust-craving 'colleague's' nerves presented to them a much higher risk than the guard or other mercs coming round, but Meeran was still pissed about Reinar's refusal of any and all ideas that separated him and Bethany for a job, hence the severe limits on Reinar's choices of back-up.

But in answer to all of (presumably Bethany's) pleas, the Maker finally moved Joram to come out, and the second his face came into view in the light of the simple lantern hanging over the doors, Reinar was raised up on a knee lining up his shot. A breath, another, and his arrow is loose, turning white-hot in flight under Bethany's will and searing flesh as it pierces the mark's throat. There's a soft thump as Lord Behrtold topples over onto the grass, no blood spilling, and then three figures are scaling down the only blank wall of the garden. They quickly bundle up the body and hoist it up to the roof while Beth keeps watch with a sleep spell ready in case a servant or a relative decides to sniff the flowers.

A hasty rejuvenating of the flattened grass, and they are gone. They have to fumble a bit on the rooftops, then descend via a long-disused chimney, and after some furtive alley-traversing and a visit to a friend, the job is done. Lord Joram Behrtold had suddenly disappeared and is gone forever, the Red Irons are twenty sovereigns richer, and Reinar is due an ale in the Hanged Man. Those are the simple joys of a mercenary's life.

Somewhat tired but contented, they push through the usual night crowd in the tavern's main chamber and go straight to the room that the Irons company permanently rents for its people. The mercenaries there are as drunk and loud as everyone else in the Hanged Man, if not louder, but at least they are fewer in number and there is always a place to sit down. After reporting to Meeran and leaving him with the Berhtolds' signet ring as proof of the deed, they part ways with Meerkat and Grumps, who are drawn to the gamblers' corner as if by blood magic. Now is Reinar's time for a pint and a moment of quiet contemplation while Bethany goes to chat with another couple of Irons' mages, but the Maker as usual has other ideas.

As soon as he gets to his favourite empty corner, the gamblers' noises are drowned out by a familiar "Hawke!"

"And a good evening to you too, Aveline."

"Is it true? Did you kill Lord Behrtold?"

"We just got here, how is anyone already talking?"

"That is not a denial."

"Well of course it isn't, since I did the job, yes."

Aveline sinks down on the bench he occupied, uncomfortably close for a person fuming and armed with a sword. "That's murder, Hawke. There are laws for a reason!"

"Oh yes, the question of laws. Why the sudden interest in legislature, serrah Vallen? I don't remember you objecting six months ago."

"We had no choice. And that man was a traitor, he betrayed the men he hired!"

"So there are laws until we really need them not to be, oh, and also they apply only if you approve?" Reinar sighs. The evening is obviously ruined anyway, and this discussion was a long time coming.

"That's not what I mean! Do you even know why someone wanted him killed?"

"Yes, I asked the charming people from Starkhaven to pretty please explain to me in great detail exactly how this Joram interfered with their masters' interests."

"Hawke!"

"No. And I don't care."

"But..."

"But nothing! Do you know how much Niklas forks over to the templars every week to keep their attentions away from the company? I'll tell you what, he counts it out in gold, not silver!"

"Oh yes, you are protecting your sister by making a hired killer of her! That is so much better than the accepted comforts of the Circle..."

"You do not get to tell me about the better life of Circle mages, you templar's..." And that would be the perfect moment to take a deep breath. Reinar jumps to his feet, tepid ale precariously forgotten on the bench. "What is it with you and selective law-breaking, pray tell me? You've left over a dozen mercs from competing companies crippled or dead, you've stood protection over some cringe-worthy deals, you've guarded obvious contraband, and I don't mean silks or spices. Andraste's flaming twat, Aveline, those crates we guarded last month - that was lyrium! They have yet to invent something more illegal than lyrium-smuggling!"

"And still I did not kill a single innocent person."

"Right, innocent!" The ale mug lost its struggle with gravity, splashing brown liquid all over their boots. "He was a noble! Maferath's junk, when ever are those innocent? He kept a dozen Winters on staff all day every day, all of them armed to their teeth. How many innocent men who need such protection you know?"

"I know Bethany needs such in your eyes."

The crashing sounds made by a body in chainmail colliding with an iron flambeau got every head in the room turning. But before Reinar could follow his first punch with more, Aveline had swept his legs from under him and crouched over him with a sheathed knife in one hand. "You should get someone to teach you to brawl, Reinar. And to use the blade you carry."

He grinned weakly. "Are you offering?"

"No. I'm leaving the Irons. You're right, I'm too much occupied with the question of law to stay in the company." She dropped his knife on the bench and left.

Sally Meer pushes her way through the disappointed crowd and drags him to his feet. "She's right, I'd say. I can spar with you if you want. I'll even be gentle!"

He smiles and shakes his head. "Please don't."

On the other side of the room Bethany quietly slips out, her face wet.

* * *

><p>From the Office of the Viscount to the desk of the Guard Captain<p>

Upon reviewing the reports from Lowtown patrols of the previous three months and the last Darktown permanent population count, it is the decision of this Office that the refugee situation is not being properly addressed. In order to rectify current failings and prevent further escalation of this problem, it has been decided to expand the City Guard, adding 15 guardsmen positions and 1 lieutenant position, all to be filled with recruits from the numbers of Fereldans currently living in Kirkwall who have been here more than 2 months. Also an additional Darktown patrol is to be instituted after the required recruits are found, and at all times it should include at least two of the Fereldan guardsmen.

Signed, this day the 27th of Harvestmere in 9:31 Dragon, from the Office of the Viscount of Kirkwall, Seneschal Marcel Koert Bran.

P.S. - I recommend employing all haste in putting these decisions in action, Guard Captain.

_- From the Kirkwall_ _City_ _Guard Archives_

* * *

><p>We Marchers name our Champions for their decisiveness at the times when everyone else baulks, for their fearlessness when everyone cowers, for the sharpness of their minds when everyone is at a loss. We do not punish a hero if they transgress a previous law, because we know that mere need for heroes shows our laws have betrayed us. A Champion can straighten what became crooked or erase what went wrong or forge a new path. Thus we name one when we see the results achieved, and understand that after your world was changed the goals achieved are the sole possible measure of judgment. And so I repeat after all those who told this tale before me and remind all those who will tell it after of the truth: he was our Champion, and thus whether his blades shortened a life or defended one, Justice always was his.<p>

_- The Champion's Tale, as written down after the words of an anonymous bard in the Circle_ _Tower_ _garden_ _of Montsimmard_


End file.
